we're geniuses around here

I just had this conversation at work, with a man who used to work on the same team as me but moved to another department a couple of years ago.


He, looking at my name tag on my cube wall: "Did you change your name?"
Me, looking at my computer screen and typing: "Did I change...my name."
He:  "Yes.  I don't remember it being that."


I turned slowly to look at my name tag, thinking someone had messed with it and made it read Moron McWiggles or something.  As I turned, I said,


"No...did YOU change my name?"
"No.  I just didn't think that is what it is."
"What did you think it was?"
"I don't remember now.  But I did not think it was that."


I figured out he was talking about my last name, which has been the same for the past 29 years.  Always.


"Geez, and I thought our team's brains were fried tonight."  My team is all working late today.
"No, I just thought it was something else, but now I don't know what that is."
"It's always been that..."


As he started to leave, he said, "Well, at least it's short.  Five letters should be easy enough, right?"


Um..yeah.  Though apparently, it's not.
I wanted to ask him to pronounce my last name (I'm pretty sure he can't).  But I also want to be done working late and get out of here.

time travelling wedding crasher orgies

Yesterday, my grood friend sent me this link.  We both enjoy the comics of Toothpaste for Dinner, and this one was pertinent since I have always had bizarrely intricate dreams that I sometimes enjoy sharing with friends.  She did say that she doesn't necessarily agree with the comic in regards to me, but it was topical for us nonetheless.


Apparently my subconscious was feeling defiant after reading that TFD comic yesterday and tried to one-up itself.


I dreamed that I was a sixteen year-old Latina who was wedding crashing in order to find my time machine somewhere in the giant cathedral. I carried two bouquets of white roses, ostensibly to blend in, but they were some kind of magical power source for the time machine. You know how Latino weddings are -- anyone in a dress and carrying flowers blends in. I explored the upper stories of the building, finding bed-and-breakfast-style bedrooms and sitting areas, and then decided to have an orgy with four old men. Yeah. Gross. It was even gross in the dream. I started with one and then told him to send two in the next time. Of course, the second two weren't old anymore and were now semi-attractive, but still creepy that they were willing to do this. I didn't even get to try though, because my dream-mother and aunt came in, but they were only in their early 20s, since the time machine worked for them and I technically hadn't been born yet. My mother concluded that it was rape and sent my aunt, who was some kind of social worker or social justice advocate, away to get the papers to press charges. I was too ashamed (and bewildered) by my willingness to participate in the elderly orgy to admit the truth, and I knew I was going to ruin the lives of these men. I felt horribly confused and guilty, then woke up.
Of course, the fourth man that wasn't even naked in the room at the time was the one who looked like Ted Danson, who I would have most enjoyed orgying with.